Hank Harris had asked her to marry him, or at least she thought he had. It wasn’t like any proposal she’d ever heard. He’d offered a partnership, equal and forever. Then, he’d unbuckled his gun belt and handed it to her. And, for the first time in her life, she found she couldn’t say no.
She smiled to herself. Her sister had argued all the while Aggie packed. At one point Dolly even insisted Charlie Ray stop Aggie from going with the crazy cowboy who thought a proper engagement gift was a gun. But Charlie, for once, spoke up and said he’d had enough. He claimed Hank was a good man and if Aggie wanted to go with him the only duty he saw as his was to see that they were married before the train left the station.
Hank and Aggie might be in Amarillo come morning, but they would be wed tonight.
The night air cooled Aggie’s tears as she gripped her hands together in her lap. She’d never been brave, she reminded herself, but the fear of everything remaining the same was worse than the fear of the unknown. She had to go. She had to take Hank’s offer. She had to end the torture of being passed from house to house.
“I never heard Harris swear,” Charlie interrupted as the lights from town blinked on the horizon. “That’s one good thing about him, I reckon.”
Aggie took a breath. “Yes.” She had one brother-in-law in Kansas who thought “damn” should serve as an adjective to every noun he used. Not swearing was definitely a good trait, she decided.
“Though I don’t think he has much money, he always pays his bills at the stockyard. Some ranchers, even after they have the cash for the sale, try to slip by without paying.” Charlie spit a long stream of tobacco into the night. “Paying your bills is good.”
“Yes.” Aggie guessed Charlie was trying to calm her. Maybe he thought she might jump out of the wagon and run away wild into the night. But, to be honest, if he didn’t hurry she was more likely to bolt and run toward the station. Charlie Ray Tucker was the best of her brother-in-laws and he was barely tolerable. After being passed from sister to sister she’d noticed that all their husbands had bad habits.
Closing her eyes, she tried to guess Hank’s.
“If he goes to the whorehouses he ain’t one to brag about it.” Charlie interrupted her thoughts again.
“That’s good.” Aggie tried to forget all the lectures her sisters had given her, as though each man she’d turned down had been her flaw. She grinned, realizing that accepting a proposal hadn’t halted the lectures. If Dolly had had the time she would have ranted for hours.
All her sisters thought Aggie was weak-minded. Poor, beautiful, slow-witted Aggie. She can’t cook, can’t sew, can’t remember the time of day when she becomes interested in something. The only way she’ll find a man, they claimed, was to remain silent until the wedding. They barely noticed what she
Charlie didn’t seem to notice her silence as they passed the pens of cattle waiting to be shipped. He was on a roll praising Hank. “And he’s clean. I swear some of them boys come in smelling worse than the cattle.”
Aggie nodded as she watched the station draw closer. She had no trouble making out the tall man standing with his feet wide apart at the end of the platform. He must have been waiting for her for over an hour. She thought she saw a slight nod when they drew close enough for him to recognize Tucker’s wagon, but his expression was hidden in the shadow of his wide-brimmed Stetson.
“What’s your bad habit, Mr. Harris?” she mumbled to herself. “What will I have to put up with?” With a slight nod, she greeted him, realizing whatever his shortcomings were, they couldn’t equal hers. He’d be the one shortchanged tonight.
Charlie pulled up to the platform and tied the reins around the brake handle. “I’ll go wake the preacher. He don’t live but a block from here,” he shouted so that Hank could hear him. “You two might as well get acquainted.”
She watched her brother-in-law disappear into the clutter of homes behind the station. For a while she just stared into the darkness wondering what she’d say to this man she was about to marry. Getting acquainted wasn’t easy when neither liked to talk.
When she finally turned, Hank Harris looked as nervous as she. He offered his big hand and helped her down from the wagon. As his sleeve slipped a few inches up his arm she noticed a white bandage.
“Are you hurt?” If he’d had a bandage on his arm at dinner, surely she would have noticed.
Hank pulled his shirt over the wound as he shook his head. “It’s nothing really. Right after I bought our tickets, some fellow I’ve never seen before thought I should have a drink with him. When I said I was waiting for someone he pulled a knife.” Hank brushed his coat sleeve as if the wound could be dusted away. “The doc in the saloon across the street stitched it up for me. He was well into his whiskey, but he did a fine job. He wasn’t much of a doctor and it wasn’t much of a cut, so he only charged the price of a bottle. I was more worried about not being here when you drove in than the blood.”
She frowned.
Hank continued, “I think the fellow mistook me for someone else. He was drunk enough that, by the time he realized his mistake, he decided to be mad at me instead of himself.”
Her smile returned. “I can see how he’d take you for another.” She scanned the length of him. “There must be quite a few men your size catching the midnight train.”
Hank hated comments about his height, but somehow he didn’t mind her teasing. “Be careful or next time I’ll tell the guy to stay around until my wife arrives to shoot him.”
“Did he try to rob you?”
Hank shook his head. “No, just a drunk wanting company.”
Aggie brushed her fingers along his arm, lightly feeling the bandage beneath layers of shirt and coat. When their eyes met, they both turned away, embarrassed at her boldness.
He quickly stepped to the wagon bed. “This all of your luggage?” he asked as politely as if she were a stranger he’d offered to assist.
She glanced at the carpetbag and two boxes tied with twine. “I’ve a trunk my father said he’d ship once I settled. That’s all.” She knew it wasn’t much. Most brides came with all the necessities for setting up housekeeping, but without a mother to help her, Aggie had neither the skill nor desire to quilt and stitch a dowry.
He picked up her belongings and loaded them on the train. When he returned, she whispered, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” was all he answered.
They just stood, side by side, as mismatched as any couple she’d ever seen. Her fingers twisted together, she shifted in place, straightened her skirt, retied the bonnet Dolly had insisted she wear.
Hank could have been made of stone. He didn’t even seem to breathe. They both stared at the few lights of Fort Worth. On the breeze she thought she heard the tinny sound of a piano and guessed the only thing open this time of night would be the saloons.
“You cold?” He startled her with his question.
“No,” she lied, pulling her cotton dress coat around her. She wasn’t about to complain or tell him this was the only coat she had. Her father had bought her three new dresses to “go on her courting journey.” Only, when she’d left for her first sister’s house, it had been late spring. Now, in another month it would be Thanksgiving. Her three fine dresses were worn from washing and pressing, and no brother-in-law had offered to loan her money for winter clothes. Not that she would have taken a single coin from them. All any of them wanted from her was her absence. She was another mouth to feed and something for their wives to complain about. Nothing more.
She watched Charlie hurrying down the platform. A chubby young man, trying to pull on his long black coat, rushed behind him.
“I finally found a preacher,” Charlie grumbled. “We can get this done now.”
The preacher introduced himself as Brother Philip Milton. He shook Hank’s hand with a strong pumping motion. “First,” the young man said, straightening to his full height, “I have to ask if you’re still wanting to marry this lady.” He looked nervous, as if this might be his first ceremony. “I don’t push nobody down matrimony road that don’t want to go.”
Hank swallowed, then nodded. Aggie wished she could see his face and know for sure that he wasn’t having second thoughts. She wanted to warn the lean cowboy that all she’d ever been was trouble. Her mother died giving her birth. Her sisters had to take care of her when they were little more than babies themselves. Her father carted her to work with him until she’d been old enough to go to school. She didn’t like, or trust, people, and she smelled of gun power and oil most of the time. If this man had any sense, he’d run now while he still had the chance.
